Not Everything That Glitters Is Gold
by elveriamoir
Summary: I know it has been done before but this is my version of Harry's life at the Dursley's and his first year at Hogwarts. Please read to find out before you judge me on this summary. I welcome all reviews
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: I am neither rich or blonde nor does my name start with a J, there in lies the problem (for me anyways) I do not own Harry Potter.**_

Chapter one

Private Drive was a quiet place in Little Whinging. It's residents were off the hard working, middle class kind and it showed. Neat box like houses arranged in a perfect crescent, with jewel like patches of equal sized gardens both to the front and back of the houses, and neat laid drives in perfect alignment with freshly painted garage doors. Shiny black motor vehicles stood gleaming on these drives and lacy or flower curtains hung in freshly polished windows. Most residents chose black or cream gloss paint for their window sashes, doors, and garages. They also chose to have perfectly clipped lawns, and low box hedges or their gardens. To the front of their houses, the drives were laid in a neat Herringbone pattern of grey stone and to the rear, patios were laid the same. Inside the houses magnolia prevailed on the walls and the floors were mainly carpeted in finely woven cream. Picture rails hung tastefully posed pictures of the families living there (or their relatives), while all the fixtures and fittings were in cream with gold. Overall it was a very respectable, if slightly boring corner of Surrey.

Mrs Petunia Dursley however, did not give a rat's tail about conforming to such sheer banality in her existence. She did not believe in following the crowd and when, as a freshly married couple, her husband and herself had moved into the only detached property in the street she had torn up the rulebook and set tongues wagging. Despite her dislike of anything out of the ordinary, Petunia had good taste in decorating and wanted her family home to be as welcoming and as comfortable as possible. At first the changes she made to the house were not noticeable to her nosey neighbours as the were inside the house. She spent months planning and sourcing materials to make her house perfect. Behind the glossily painted front door she merrily worked away, transforming the house into a home. She (and yes she did do it all herself thank you very much) decide on soft waxed oak flooring for the whole of the house, with rugs and stair liners for softness. All the doors in the house were of waxed oak and with bronze handles shaped as an opened rose. In the hall she carried the soft oak half way up the walls, and painted the top half a soft stone colour, the warm yellows of this she picked up in a brown and cream stripped stair runner and doormat. The banister was also of oak, but she chose a warm bronze for the metals in it. The kitchen was painted in the same colour with splash backs and work surfaces of the palest sanded limestone, while the cabinets were of varnished oak. The bath room had tiles of the softest green, shot through with bronze and walls painted a slightly darker green, a bronze shower head stood over a scroll topped bath, which itself was cream and bronze, the same as the rest of the suit. In the living room she chose an enclosed gas fire simply because it was the most efficient at the time and the black and bronze appliance set off the dusky bronze and red she had chosen for the soft furnishing of the room. After painting the rest of the room in the same soft stone as the hallway, she decided it needed more warmth and after much humming and harring she painted a free style opened rose in Dusky Bronze and red on the wall with the fire. The upstairs bedrooms were all painted a different colour. The smallest was painted a warm peach, with cream highlights. The designated guest bedroom was painted cream with lilac and bronze wallpaper on the bed head wall. The second largest bedroom she painted in different shades of blue and bronze. The large master bedroom she choose a soft dove grey and dusky pink.

Satisfied with the inside of the house, and unaware the gossips had started when she had hung the simple coloured but luxurious curtains at the window, Petunia turned her attention to the external areas of the house. She ripped up the boring grey stonework of her patio and drive, the relayed it with the soft ochre- red of old stones in the same pattern. She sanded all the external woodwork back to true, swaying precariously on the ladder as she did so, and then varnished it a deep mahogany colour. The gardens were subject to the same treatment. She removed all of the hedges in the rear garden and replaced them with honeysuckle and climbing roses to cover the, now stained dark green, fence work. Widening the borders she edged them with the same soft coloured old bricks and planted them full. Lilies, Iris, Hollyhocks, Foxgloves, Lupins, Fuchsias and Hydrangeas all glowed with reds, pinks and oranges whilst jostling for space. She filled large pale terracotta pots on the patio with all sorts of herbs, letting their scent mingle with that of the flowers. In the middle of the jewel bright lawn she added a birdbath. The front garden kept most of its low hedging, with only the corner shrubs being replaced by Hydrangeas. Under the front bay window she dug a half moon border and filled it with spring flowering bulbs, autumn flowering perennials and winter green, resolving to buy summer bedding plants yearly.

Immersed in her happy world and three full years after they moved in, the Dursleys found they were pregnant with a son. Vernon was overjoyed, Petunia's joy only tempered slightly by the wish (somewhere deep in the back of her mind) of sharing this with her sister. Vernon returned from work many times that winter to find her staring out of the kitchen wind one hand place gently on her growing stomach another on the sun catcher they had been gifted anonymously at their wedding. She pulled herself together by Christmas day, much to his delight, and shared in the festivities during a rare visit from her parents and the two weeks his sister Marge spent with them. The new year brought a feeling of deep contentment for Petunia, that was only tinged with bitterness when her parents seemed more enthused with the idea of her sister being pregnant than herself. Towards April her mood turned and she started to feel hemmed in and a little unloved leading to a screaming match over the phone with her mother at the very end of the month. Before she could ring to apologise a young police officer turned up on her doorstep on the 3rd of May with the news that her parents had been killed in a suspicious car crash. The guilt and grief drove her to an early pregnancy, and her son was born 7th May at home with no one else around them. By the time the ambulance arrived she had cut the cord herself and was breastfeeding her apparently unharmed son. The physically pulled the boy from her arms to check them both over and it was not until two weeks later she was allowed to hold her son again. By then he had forgotten that first touch, as newborns do if placed in an incubator with little human interaction, and struggled against her refusing to feed. When they arrived home she stowed all the letters that had arrived during her hospital stay into a box and got Vernon to place it in the attic. She had missed her parent's funeral during her stay in hospital and when Vernon suggested she contact her sister she threw the bottle she had been warming at him and burst into tears. Neither noticed the innocent looking sun catcher in the window spark and begin to spin on its own.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two-The Boy who Lived. 

A year and four months later Vernon Dursley was happily getting ready for work, trying to ignore the sparkling sun catcher hanging in his kitchen wind, wincing as it threw of a particularly bright spark, he chuckled and ducked the food aimed at him by his one-year-old son, who was throwing a tantrum. Deciding he was safer out of the way and the Petunia would probably cope better without him under his feet he pressed a loving kiss to her check and snaffled a slice of toast before heading off to work. When he reached the corner of his streets he really wished he had braved the tantrum long enough to have a coffee because he could have sworn he had just seen a cat reading a map. Jerking himself back to face the road, he patted his brow, despite the cold and forced his mind back onto the large drill order he was supposed to make that day. When he reached the edge of town, he felt a trickle of some unidentified emotion run down his spine and he stared for several minuets at people milling about his usually, normal, work place in cloaks. He swallowed hard and with a feeling he was missing something, decided that they must be collecting something. By lunchtime, his nerves were shot and he felt a headache coming on he decided to stroll to the bakery, come café across the road for some fresh air and his lunch. It was not until he was returning to work that his unease came back at him with full force. He unintentionally knocked down a tiny man, and upon apologising, he had been hugged, by a complete stranger no less, and called a muggle. He was sure he'd heard that term before but a gossiping pain of old women beside him caught his attention, the words Potter's … son …Harry…gone had him flying back across the road to his office and ignoring the worried look from his secretary he had nearly finished dialling his home before common sense caught up with him. He groaned and banged his head off the desk as he tried to think. He knew Petunia no longer liked her sister, had in fact pretended she was an only child since all the trauma last year, and even before that, since the brouhaha at their wedding, been cold towards her. He blamed the man his sister-in-law had married; still a child he had such a narrow mind and set most people is backs up. Vernon knew he would not be complaining over the Evans' sister's strange choice in men as it meant he had managed to (and he still did not know how) claim the prize that was Petunia. He couldn't blame his wife for her jealousy before that though as their parents had dotted on his sister-in-law, then that man had nearly ruined their wedding day, and an argument with her sister had meant Petunia lost her parents in the midst of an argument. He raised his head a stared dolefully out of the window, his glazed eyes not seeing the half dozen owls fly past his window, as he mulled over what he should do and the fact it was easier to think in his office than at home.

By the time his shift ended, and after getting nothing productive done since lunch, Vernon was in a strange mood. He half-heartedly tried to shoo the cat away from his garden, but desisted as soon as it gave him a look reminiscent of his old form teacher. When Dudley was in bed he could hold back any longer and had to talk to Petunia about what he had heard that day. As he suspected she closed him down instantly, but not before he caught a glimpse of the worry, pain and longing in her green-grey eyes. She retired to bed long before he was ready to go up, and he sat in the dark fretting until the chill forced him to also retire. He prayed that whatever had happened would not bring his family more bad news, in his gut however he was deeply worried.

Outside Private Drive, perched uncomfortably on a low brick wall the tabby cat had stared at the house all day, now she was cold, tired, worried and a little depressed. Her boss and old friend had unconsciously let slip he would be here tonight and she was going to confront him. A figure appeared at the end of the street and she narrowed her eyes as she recognised the shape, the cringed as she took in the colour combination he was wearing. When he reached her she barely gave him time to get comfortable before reverting back into her human form and laying into him. She ignored his attempts at banter and could feel her anger growing at each attempt. Just at the point of being ready to strangle him he admitted most of what he knew and she felt a small piece of her die. Fighting back the tears she argued against bring the child here, not recognising the triumphant glint in Dumbledore's eyes for what it was. In the end she was secretly relieved when he informed her Hagrid would be bringing Harry with him, but the concern and suspicion lit her mind when they were informed Sirius Black had gladly given up his motorbike and responsibility towards his godson. She tucked it away in the corner of her mind to ponder at a later date, before casting an unnoticed and obscure protective charm at the bundle on the doorstep. Frowning at Dumbledore's cavalier treatment of one so young she apperated away. Once in her own apartment she broke down in tears, until her heartbroken sobs gave way to broken and uncomfortable sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: I don't own Harry Potter I am merely playing with the characters**_

Chapter Three

The residents of Private Drive were woken by a piercing shriek at 5.30 on the morning of November 1st. Fearful of what they might face, curtains were slowly drawn back desperately searching for soggy streamers of toilet tissue or splatters of rotten eggs. Sighs of relief echoed unheard around the street as all appeared to be well. Slowly the residents headed back to their disturbed slumber. Before they could settle though, an anguished cry filled the air. The despair heard behind the cry caused many to tense, confusion and alarm filled the air as a baby's desperate wail followed on its heels. The crying filled the air and echoed in the ears of all who heard it. The residents crept slowly to their doors and gathered on doorsteps to gape at the sight of Petunia Dursley, on her knees at her front door, dressed in nothing but her nightdress and slippers. The more sympathetic members of the street felt sorry for her, as she had obviously received bad news again. She was crying hysterically in her despair, clutching a red wrapped bundle to her chest and rocking slowly on her knees. In her hand she clutched a freshly opened note and her eyes stared unseeing up at her husband's confused and yet furious face. The bundle in her arms was sobbing uncontrollably, and her own child was whimpering in his father's arms. Vernon glared at those gawping at the scene and gently helped his wife to her feet, not touching the child in her arms, and led her inside, slamming the door behind him.

The family was not seen for the next two weeks. Vernon phoned a family emergency into work, while Petunia was trying to cope with suddenly having another child, and the guilt of another breach unhealed before she lost a family member.

Gradually things started to return to some form of normality, although both of the adult Dursleys were exhausted. Their son Dudley seemed unsettled by the introduction of another child and cried continually through out the day when Petunia tried to leave them alone. Harry made no sound during the day, he sat obediently in his highchair waiting to be fed, and he would hand over any toy Dudley wanted before the older boy could get upset, even if he had been happily playing with it himself. He watched quietly from his cot as Vernon read a story to his own son, a thumb firmly in his mouth as he fought the sleep trying to claim his young mind. Within two hours of Harry eventually falling asleep, he would wake the house with his screams. Unable to wake him during his terrors Petunia was beside herself., tears regularly stained her cheeks as she walked backwards and forwards in the nursery, crooning softly to her nephew as Vernon took her son downstairs to settle him.

Four months after Harry's unexpected arrival, his night terrors suddenly appeared to stop. Petunia still couldn't sleep deeply and a week after he had stopped screaming in the night she silently slipped into the nursery to check on the two boys. She smiled softly when she saw her son peacefully asleep, blankets shucked down to his feet and one chubby thumb in his mouth. Her smile turned to dismay when she turned to Harry's cot. Her eager but tired eyes picked up a faint shimmering bubble in the air, and when she looked at him, Harry was rigid in his sleep, eyes screwed up and mouth open in a silent scream. She hurried up to the cot, ignoring the shivers that passed over her skin when she passed through the shimmering barrier and stopped short when the horrified wail could suddenly be heard. Gently she picked up her nephew, and instinctively dropped a gentle kiss on the scar on his brow. She was unaware of the tears streaking down her face until one dropped onto chubby cheeks. Harry suddenly stopped crying and curled into her, clutching the material of her nightdress in a chubby fist. When Vernon awoke during the night, he found his wife asleep with her nephew in her arms, both their cheeks stained with dried tears. He crept quietly from the room and hurried to the kitchen where she had stowed the letter that had arrived with the boy. His eyes widened almost comically as he took it in, apparently missing memories came flooding back. Magic was real, he knew that now, didn't scoff at the words he was reading. Fear crept down his spine as he remembered a conversation he had overhead between his Petunia's sister and that boy/man. They had been talking about going into hiding as there was a lunatic sister them. At least that was what he had translated it as then, now though. His large hands shook as he sank slowly into a chair. He reread the letter in his hands. They had mentioned a person called Voldesomething then, the letter said he had found them. They had been worried about death meaters, death dealers, death somebodies finding and hurting their unborn son, the letter said the guy with the stupidly long name was placing his nephew with them as it would be the last place Death Eaters could be expected to look. He ignored the sun catcher gently spinning at the kitchen window, as he lowered his brow onto his hand. His mind was a muddle and he was wondering just how they had gotten into this situation. He couldn't blame his nephew for waking them up screaming during the night, as if Vernon Dursley was good at anything it was reading between the lines, and he was having to do a lot of that from the note the man with the stupidly long name had written Petunia. He shuddered knowing that most people would have more than nightmares if they had seen their parents murdered in front of them (even if they weren't old enough to remember) and the having something unknown happen to them. No Vernon decided he didn't blame his nephew. The sun catcher spun slightly more violently and Vernon raised his head as the movement caught his eye. He pursed his lips while he thought. He didn't blame his wife either for not telling him about magic and that other world that obviously existed, not deeply anyway. He couldn't fathom how it would feel it know your younger sister, someone you loved had a gift that would take you far away from her. He could imagine why Petunia hadn't told him of the world his sister-in-law inhabited, after all most people would not want the person they were married to thinking they were insane. His eyes were now following the movement of the sun catcher as it danced in the dark window. He did not blame his sister and brother-in-law for keeping them in the dark about their world, after all for Vernon and his family they were probably safest well away from people who could apparently kill with such ease. He got up from the chair and walked slowly across to the window, frowning at the insane sun catcher, filled with a feeling, almost a compulsion he smashed the stupid thing, barely wincing as the tiny shards stung his skin in reprimand. In the kitchen, hold the remains of the glass decoration he suddenly froze as a thought entered his mind. He whirled around and took the stairs two at a time. By the time he reached the nursery his loud ascent had woken his wife and nephew, although his son slept soundly. Petunia eyed him wearily although worried showed in her grey green eyes, while his nephew seemed to watch him shrewdly. He eyed his wife carefully, panting slightly unused to such exertions. He felt different somehow, as if fog was slowly lifting from his brain.

Harry suddenly tugged on his aunt's nightgown, drawing her attention back to him. "Down" he demanded in his baby voice, "Down". Petunia looked at him puzzled, but complied with his request. Harry offered her a smile that was both toothy and gummy, before pulling himself to his feet at tottering towards his uncle who he could see watching him. Cautiously he pulled at his uncle's "UP?" he questioned the towering man. Vernon bent and scooped up his small form and was met with brilliant green eyes and a pet lip. "Dada scared. Moma sad. Bad man. Moma sleepy. Not wake up. Unca Vern, wake Moma up?"

Vernon watched as a single tear ran down his 1-year-old nephews face. He hugged the boy to his large chest and walked out of the nursery beckoning Petunia to follow. He walked carefully back into the kitchen, gently holding a now silent Harry. Petunia followed him in and flicked on a light gasping at the glass shimmering over one of her workbenches. She turned to Vernon with a question on her lips but he held up a large hand to stop her. She watched in confusion as her normally vocal husband struggled to put into words what he was thinking. When he didn't speak for several seconds she tried to take Harry away from him, but he merely held the boy closer and looked at her with pained eyes. "Petunia love," he finally got out, "I think someone has been trying to play God somewhere." He flinched as Harry cuddled in to him, making the small boy's lower lip tremble, "no Harry," he hastened to assure, deliberately keeping his voice low and holding the boy in a large hug, "I'm not mad at you or anything," Vernon smiled slightly as his simple words seemed to reassure the small boy in his arms. He sighed deeply and turned once again to look at his wife who was now seated in a chair opposite him, one small hand on his arm. "Can you remember when we bought this house Tuney? It came on the market about a month before our wedding and we had such plans, such dreams for it. We started out all right didn't we," he smiled at her sadly. "I don't know when things started to go wrong for us personally, but I can remember the last time we were at a party thrown by your parents I heard a conversation. I had gone outside for some fresh air and was wandering around the garden. I over heard a conversation then Tuney, I misheard most of it because I didn't understand. I do now though." he looked at his wife shocked as she flinched away from him, " I'm not mad you didn't tell me love, I'm not even really upset. It wasn't your secret to tell after all. See I sat and thought for a long while after I read that letter and I got to the point of thinking I didn't blame your sister or her husband for not telling us anything that was going on in their world when that sun catcher caught my eye. It was spinning and dancing away without any light or breeze. I suddenly felt and urge to smash the damned thing, and it was then that it hit me. The second the stupid thing shattered I knew." He grabbed one of her small hands in his large ones. "We've been deceived Tuney. We all were. I mean why would they not tell us? Warn us? Warn your parents? Tuney what if…"

He didn't get to finish his sentence because she suddenly gripped his hand so tightly her nails dug into his skin. He looked at her and she was looking thunderstruck. "Vernon are you saying?"

They looked at each other, identical dark looks flashing in both sets of eyes. "My sister's letters?"/Your sister's letters!" was uttered at the same time.

She looked at Vernon, then at Harry who's eyes were softly starting to close, then to the destroyed wedding gift sitting on the work top, "but who…" she started to ask, stopping as she followed her husbands finger to where it rested on the parchment. Her eyes narrowed as she read the name there.

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Petunia's eyes blazed, suddenly appearing the same vivid green as her sister's and nephew's as she remember the initials on the gift card that accompanied the sun catcher. "Damn him" she swore. She looked at Vernon, "Tomorrow we empty the attic."


End file.
